One better
by DamselCausingDistress
Summary: This story begins with a girl, very unique and... loud. Beginning with a challenge presented against Altair, the legendary slayer of the Nine, an entire story unfolds about a journey, a complicated love, and a secret that may just tear everything down.  NOTE. being discontinued indefinitely.
1. Before Dawn

I could hear the screams before anything else. The thin wall didn't keep the noises out of my home, nor my mind. The first scream broke an eerie silence, one different to most nights. The first was followed by many of women and children alike. The house conjoined with mine was suddenly awake with fear. I'd never learned their names, but when the door was thrown open, I could hear the man's yells as he fought to defend his home and family. This brought a sudden realisation to my mind; _I had no man to protect me._ My mind clicked into action, as I rushed to get out of bed. The shouting next door grew louder, and I knew I didn't have long to act.

A woman's voice shrieked loudly, and her children cried out. I almost didn't have enough time to make it to the secret back door before loud footsteps trudged up the steps and threw my door down. Behind my house, I could see Masyaf; it was going up in flames. Villagers were running for the fortress further up the hill, and I cursed under my breath as I tore the bottom of my dress; I couldn't run with a skirt that long.

I could hear footsteps thumping their way upstairs, and it made me glad I'd picked the house with the less noticeable back door. Amongst the screaming was the sound of metal clashing with metal. The guards were fending off these barbarians, whoever they were. I didn't have the time to wait around and find out, and I didn't want to be next in line to suffer the same fate as my neighbours. I could see the lines of soldiers pouring through the tall wooden gates, covered in shiny armour. I couldn't see the seal clearly, but decided it would be a good time to run.

Further up the mountain, I passed Azriah's home. It looked undisturbed as of yet, but it wasn't far behind mine. Her father was packing things onto their horse, and Azriah's younger brother Fareed was climbing onto the horse. I didn't waste any time trying to help them, as much as they needed it. The screams were echoing off the tall mountains surrounding us, making it impossible to drown them out with ragged breathing.

At the gates, there were groups of foreign soldiers trying to get past the guards. I watched them as I ran into the monastery. As I was about to pass under the arch of the door, I ran straight into someone: consequently losing my balance. Large, gentle hands steadied me, and I rushed an apology to the man. I couldn't see his eyes; they were hidden under an off-white hood. He nodded to me before running to defend the gates.

I froze to watch him battle it out with three men at once. He was as graceful as Maia when she danced, only this was a more deadly dance. His sword stained red, and I turned to leave the sight of this. Inside the tall monastery was a mass of people; dazed and disoriented, or angry and fearful. A few guards standing higher than everyone else tried to keep everyone calm. Behind them was a table with men huddled around in hysterics, trying to find a solution. The master, Malik, was one of those men.

Instead of looking for friends in the crowd, I headed up the stairs toward the table. A few guards tried to stop me half way, but I pushed straight past them.

"Who are they?" I asked, but my question went unanswered. I slipped a dagger out of the closest man's belt and stabbed the maps on the table.

"Girl, you've forgotten your place. Go tend to the wounds of our brothers." Malik kept his head down.

"This is my place. Listen to me."

Malik looked at the dagger, before raising his head to look at me. I glared bluntly, and he stared back. With all eyes on me, I spoke again.

"They've come through the gates here," I gestured to the map, "and here. They're destroying the village, pillaging as they go. They've taken the Western District." They all stared; nothing but their heavy gazes that weighed me down. The same man spoke at me then; "We're aware of the situation. Now leave."

"Do you know what they want? What they're after?" I challenged him. The slightest hint of a smile crept up one side of Malik's mouth.

"Do _you _know, girl?" a voice from behind me asked. "Please, enlighten us with your knowledge, or say nothing and turn away from this table." The voice spat. His voice was full of venom; I didn't dare look behind me. At that, Malik spoke.

"Altaïr, care for your tongue." He looked past me, at this _Altaïr_ who was behind me.

"She may very well know something we don't. Treat her well, or not at all." A second of silence among these men was all it took to know that Altaïr hadn't wanted to. The aching urge to turn around and look at him finally won over.

He was the man I ran into just moments ago. Only this time, his forehead was dampened with sweat and his clothes had red stains. I tried to recall his name as I bowed down to him. He put a hand on my shoulder, and knelt down to my height.

"What can you tell us, girl?" His eyes looked straight into mine, and they had the power to make me stammer.

"I.. I…" I closed my eyes and shook my head. A small snicker escaped his lips, and his arm fell off my shoulder. He walked by me, his robes just brushing my bare arms.

"She has nothing to help us." He said, almost as if he was saying _I rest my case_.

"I can help." I said at last, so hurt by his last statement that I silently vowed to prove him wrong. The anger swelled in the pit of my stomach.

"Oh?" He asked. It was a challenge; one I greatly welcomed. I reached for the dagger still stuck in the table, and pulled it free; eager to test my abilities I have kept hidden for a long, long time. I heard his cold, menacing laugh. In that instant, I almost wanted to ask him what was so funny about a girl who could kill him as easily as he could breathe. Or so I thought.

"Altaïr. You wouldn't dare." Malik's voice warned. Altaïr was overly confident in himself; he didn't have a second thought.

"Relax, brother. She'll only have minimal cuts and bruises when I'm done with her." His bitter, cocky smile made me want to reach over and slap him. He walked around the table and seized my wrist, dragging me down the stairs to the training pit.

"You think this will be a breeze, but you are so very sadly mistaken, girl." He whispered in my ear, angrily. Above, I could see Malik watching from the balcony, concerned for me. I smiled at the thought of someone actually caring.

Just as Altaïr tried to fling me to the other side of the ring, I pulled my wrist free and kicked him behind the knees. He moved only slightly, and unsheathed his sword. An onlooker threw a sword into the ring for me, and I gladly picked it up, trying to adapt to the weight of it.

"After you, girl. Show us your great skill." He taunted. I think I'd provoked him just that little bit _too_ much. I put the knife in a concealed pouch at my waist, and gripped the sword tight. I used the sword to quickly trim my dress further, making it easier to move quickly. I could've been wrong, but I was sure the men weren't just watching for the fighting, considering you could see my lower thigh. Altaïr didn't seem to notice.

I discarded my shoes, to feel the warm sand get between my toes. I tied my hair back with a loose thread of linen, to avoid it hindering my sight. Finally ready, I approached him, with a simple swing to his chest. He jumped back and lunged forward, bluffing a swing to my side. I half-heartedly defended the blow, which he quickly deflected, only to attempt to land a blow on my right shoulder. I strafed to the left, making his try useless. He stepped back, eying me closely while he unsheathed his short sword aswel. I took out the dagger, holding one in each hand.

My left hand wasn't as good as my right, but I was still fairly skilled in dual wielding. He came at me, and he tried blow after blow, trying to get a weak spot, but I soon realised we were going nowhere fast. As my father had once taught me, a long, long time ago, _Offense is the new defence_. I planned what I'd do in a matter of seconds.

He landed another blow which I calmly deflected, and used the miniscule gap to hit his chest. It hit, but not nearly hard enough to hurt him. He flicked the sword away from him. I jumped back, and carefully circled around him. He lunged for me again, I simply jumped out of the way. He attacked me with both his weapons at once, and I caught his long sword between my mine. I flicked it free from his hands, to see it go to the other end of the ring. He didn't seem the least bit interested. He produced another blade from his belt, roughly the same size as the one he already had.

He stood back against the rails and waited for me to attack him. I slowly walked backwards, away from him. He saw this and ran for me; but I used my longer sword to keep the distance. He tried to flick my sword from my hands, but I deflected the blow, giving him an opening that I could have avoided. I knew he would go for it and jumped back from his blade, only to have our longer swords resting firmly against eachother.

I put my face close to the blade, as did he.

"Don't think you'll win." He whispered, I grinned with gritted teeth.

"I should say the same." I said, flicking his sword from his hand, which left him an opening to do the same. We circled around each other, with one dagger each. I changed hands, and he occasionally tried to land a blow. He managed to land a few on me, and I him. He also managed to get a small red line drawn across my calf, but I didn't have time to see how serious it was. He stood, almost relaxed, waiting for me to attack him. Instead I backed up and crouched down, ready to move in case he tried anything. My right hand was forward, the dagger pointing toward him. My left hand was behind me, keeping me balanced when a light bulb in my head flicked on. _Sand. _I grabbed a handful of sand, keeping my poker face, and clenched my fist tight around it. He signalled for me to come forth, and I failed to hesitate.

He used his sword so expertly, it amazed me. I danced around with him a bit, until I finally threw the sand at his eyes. His hand flew to shield his eyes and I took the moment to push him to the floor. Sitting on his stomach, I held my dagger to his throat.

"Have I proved my worth?" I whispered, my face just inches from his. His brow furrowed, and I thought it before I reacted. I knew exactly what he would do.

He used his legs to flip me onto my back, and straddled my hips. I still held my dagger to his throat. He grinned and slowly eased closer to my face.

"Not quite yet." He whispered back. He pushed my arm with the blade away from his neck, and pulled the dagger free from my hand, tossing it to the end of the ring. He pinned my arms on either sides of my head, and I stared at him while he glared back. For a moment, I thought he was going to end me, before he re-sheathed his dagger and stood up. I sat up and traced the line on my calf. I froze at the sound of someone clapping, and the crowd followed. I looked up at the balcony; Malik was whispering in a man's ear. He smiled down at me, and I smiled half-heartedly back.


	2. Grey Skies

Wow. I didn't expect this story to be so well liked! You guys are awesome. ^_^

Okay. Note: If I owned Altaïr, I wouldn't be sitting here writing fan fiction. He's Ubisoft's property **evil laugh** not for long. MUAHAHAHAHAHAHA. 

A sudden sense of lethargy overwhelmed me, and I just flopped back down into the sand. I did well, at least. _I should probably get up,_ I thought to myself. I heaved myself up, and went to walk forward. I couldn't feel anything until a pain in my side made me cry out; I tore the red-stained fabric further than it was already. The cut was jagged and dirty, already having sand in it. I touched it, and it tore pain through my body. I fell to my knees, unaware of the odd looks I received from men and women alike.

I couldn't stand, let alone walk, with the gaping hole in my side. I could feel it getting colder, and my vision faded to a blur. I could feel the red liquid streaming from the wound, and I realised, I might actually die. I was truly going to leave this world, and be with their god. My sight was now rendered completely useless. I was lying on my side, trying to suck in more air; I couldn't. I could only hear Altaïr's voice, and Malik's. Maybe they were cursing at me, maybe they were yelling for me to stay awake, I didn't know.

I knew I was in pain. It was all I could feel. It just burned and burned, to no end. I cried out in pain, and holding back tears. I tried to move my arm over my stomach, but it was swatted away. I realised I was lying on a table, on the balcony. _How did I get here?_ I asked myself. My ears were ringing, but I could hear the breeze; and soft voices.

"Shouldn't we take her inside, Malik?" I heard Altaïr ask. There was a pause before he spoke.

"Now that she's awake, yes." He added, "But Altaïr, do be gentle." My more lethal wound had been cleaned and dressed, and now the thin cut Altaïr had made on my calf was being dressed. I tried to sit up as slowly as possible, but was forced back down. The person tending to my wounds was thinning my patience. I was inwardly planning to kick him and see how far I'd get running, but my thoughts were cut off by arms picking me up under the knees and on my back. I started a coughing fit, trying not to shake too much. The sunlight disappeared, making the world seem darker.

"Where are you taking me?" I asked blindly. He reluctantly answered.

"A room." It left me wanting more answers. I wanted to hit him in that instant, just for not telling me enough. My eyes were heavy, and I couldn't keep them open for long. I heard a door creak open, and I knew that he was going to put me in a bed somewhere. I sighed, relieved that I could now sleep. Altaïr placed me on the bed, and pulled up the sheet, and turned to leave the room. Just as he walked through the door, I called his name.

He froze in the doorway, waiting for me to say something.

"I… You fight well." I said, before drifting into a deep, dark slumber. I awoke late in the evening, and decided to test my wound to its full extent; or putting it clearer, I couldn't walk much. My pain threshold wasn't holding up to my normal standard. I could ignore it for the most part, but I couldn't see myself doing anything too energetic anytime soon. Through the door was a passageway leading to a library, with a staircase at the end that lead to an interior balcony, running around the room.

In the middle of the balcony above the entrance way was Malik's desk. He was reading a book of some kind, and didn't notice me on the lower level. I walked behind the bookcases, to avoid the guards, and there weren't many others around. A few were walking through to the back garden that is on the edge of the cliff. I'd only been there once, and it wasn't really that interesting.

In the sunset, there was smoke piling, either from the houses still burning—the thought made her shiver—or it was from a campfire, or a bonfire. The people of Masyaf were big on festivities. I made my way past the guards at the door, and descended slowly down the stairs. The tower to my left was busy with guards, and they didn't even notice me. I walked through the gate, and down the mountain. I occasionally noticed a few guards giving me looks of sympathy. It confused me, but I didn't ponder on it for too long. I had better things to do.

Walking down the familiar roads was comforting; the pools of blood weren't. It made me sick to my stomach how someone could so easily take a life. I shook my head, trying to rid my mind of these thoughts. I spotted my home, and started to run. My wound made me slower, but I still tried to ignore it.

My door had been snapped off its hinges. They had torn the place to pieces, just looking for someone. The bed had been turned on its side, and the cupboards emptied onto the floor. I didn't bother to pick anything up, I just pushed the bed over and cuddled up to my pillow.

Lying still on my bed made me realise how much my wound was throbbing. I think it was bleeding, too. It was so relaxing to just lie there, and watch the sun's light grow smaller and smaller until it disappeared. I dozed off, only to be woken up moments later by a man wearing much similar clothing to Altaïr. His hood almost made me think it was him. The only thing that made her sure was this man didn't have a pale scar on his lips.

He spoke to me, but I didn't fully catch it all. He mentioned the fortress once or twice, but eventually took the hint that I couldn't fully hear him. He picked me up, agitating my wound. I tried to wriggle, at the same time as him trying to hold me still. I decided I'd had enough, and clenched my fist. He didn't see it coming, but felt the impact just as I did. He dropped me back on the bed, and I tried to move as fast as I could away from him. I pulled the door in the doorway and lodged it in tightly.

He'd be coming for me soon, and I had to get out of sight. The nearest hiding place I saw was behind the basket weaver's shop, so I immediately headed straight for it. I assumed no one saw me and sat down to rest. The streets were getting less and less populated by the minute, and there were few wandering the streets now. I was hurting too much to care. It was just too much, and I was having trouble understanding anything at all.

In my periphery, I noticed a tall looming figure leaning on the building near me, and stood up with my fists clenched tight. I had a suspicion as to who it was.

"Altaïr" was all I could think to say; after all, I was tired and cold. I was leaning against the wall, trying desperately not to collapse when he spoke.

"From this point forth, you listen to every word I say. If I tell you to jump, you jump. You don't leave the fortress once I return you there." He demanded. I wanted to yell at him, but I couldn't conjure up the strength to do so.

"Do you understand?" he pressed. I nodded.

"Why do you care what happens to me?" I shot at him suddenly; my words cutting the short silence like knives. I could tell he didn't care for me at all, but I still wanted to know.

"Malik has requested that I teach you of our ways. You will need to know if you are to become an assassin." He almost spat the words; I didn't see why he needed to treat me that way. All I could think about was my pulse steadying and my head leaning against the wall; cool and smooth.

"Where is Amun?" he asked me, pulling me out of my daze. I couldn't catch the words; couldn't comprehend. He stepped closer to me, grasped my shoulders and shook me. It sent my head spinning, and I clenched my eyes shut. My wound was hurting now, more than before. I wriggled out of his grasp and walked forward, with only a slight limp.

It wasn't until I'd been around the corner from my street that I walked into the man from earlier. He wore the same attire as Altaïr, I noticed. He looked at me coldly, before looking behind me to who I presumed to be Altaïr. I walked around him and into my home. Undoubtedly, I knew they'd make me stay in the fortress. I tried to hunt around for some more decent clothes, as the dress I was wearing wasn't wearable. It had seen better days; much, much better days.

I heard the door creak, and be pushed to the side. I didn't bother to turn around; I just focused on things I needed. When I'd collected them, I placed them in a small basket and walked straight past Altaïr. After a short distance, I realised he wasn't following me. He'd disappeared completely. I sighed and turned back, trudging forward, heading for the monastery's tall walls. It was tiring to walk uphill with such lack of rest. I had to stop and regain my strength every so often before I made it up.

The light from the vibrantly lit torches covered the dirt in streaks of yellow. I walked through the gates and into the fortress, where it was deserted; the only noise coming from the long hall that opened into the garden. Climbing the stairs was easier than trudging up the mountain path, and I was only awake due to the sheer will I had left to keep going; and it was slowly wearing thin. Inside, the hall was brightly lit, with few people left in the building.

Instead of going to search for my room, I climbed the stairs, eager to view Masyaf from its highest point at Malik's desk. I reached his desk, before I realised he was still busy reading. He looked up at my approach, and his forehead creased with worry.

"Shouldn't you be resting?" he asked me. I didn't answer. He only continued to stare at me intently as I made my way to the window.

Masyaf was beautiful. The torches stuck to the sides of buildings made the village look like the night sky; so rare and pretty. At seeing this sight, I leaned my head against the window and closed my eyes. Darkness was at the edges of my vision, I couldn't fend them off much longer. I didn't even try. I heard Malik shout my name, and I collapsed to the floor. '_How did he know my name?'_ was my last thought before the darkness overcame the night.

*

*

*

I woke up barely an hour later. A nightmare had frightened me awake. I was in the same room as before, as far as I knew. Only this time, a chair was pulled into the corner, and who I assumed to be Altaïr was asleep with his head facing down; hidden beneath his hood.

My limbs were sore; my head aching. I couldn't see straight and my wound was bleeding a clean dark trail across my hip. It was hard to climb out of bed, but I made it. The moonlight from the window made it hard to see, but I could see well enough that it may aswel have been day. Although, I noticed a door far off to the left, which I tried to quickly head for.

The room was dark, cold and seemingly empty. After a few paces, it descended downward. I noticed the sound of my footsteps echoing off the large stone walls.

I followed the descending stairway downward until it led me to a wall. My eyes couldn't adjust to the darkness in here. It was somehow a lot darker, and colder. I couldn't feel my fingers, and I could feel the short ragged gasps coming from my lungs.

I almost welcomed the warm hands that grabbed me at the waist and covered mouth, if it hadn't been second nature to scream and wriggle.

"Hush girl." He whispered. _How could he see? How did he know where I was?_ Question after question found itself in my head. He led me around the room until he let go, and I immediately missed the warmth of his hands. I heard a crackle before the room lit up with yellow light, casting long shadows across the walls where furniture stood.

There was a line of swords bracketed along the wall; nine in total. I stared upon the shiny metal, polished to a gleam; my mouth hanging wide open. _Is this all a dream? Did I die? I could swear these are the swords of the nine._

Altaïr cut off my thoughts by dragging me across the room by my wrist. He stopped me near the stairs and pushed me toward them, sending my back into the rise and fall of the stairs. I cried out, sending the noise a mile above us, echoing. Though his eyes were hidden; I could feel the heat of his gaze set on my face. He didn't have to glare at me, he could just tell me he wanted me dead; or he could make it so.

My breathing slowed, and I couldn't move without sending my entire body into shaking fits. There were only the rivulets of pain bleeding through my body slowly, and his menacing glare willing me to pick myself up and climb the stairs.

I gave up trying to stay conscious; the dark outweighed the light.

Guess whut. REVIEW OR DIE! ALTAÏR WILL GET YOU IF YOU DON'T!


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